chapter five
1627 Words
Elena didn't sleep that night.
The photograph lay on her bedside table.
She had looked at it so many times that the faces were beginning to feel permanently burned into her memory.
Her father.
Lorenzo's father.
Damiano Vitale.
Three men standing together as if they had been friends.
But that couldn't be right.
Her father had never spoken about Lorenzo's family.
Not once.
And now Marco had admitted that their family had known the Angelinos for years.
Elena sat up in bed.
There had to be an explanation.
She reached for her phone.
For a moment, she considered calling Marco.
Instead, she opened the internet.
She typed:
Lorenzo Angelino father
Hundreds of results appeared.
Most of them were old articles.
WEALTHY BUSINESSMAN FOUND DEAD IN PRIVATE ESTATE.
SON QUESTIONED IN MYSTERIOUS DEATH.
Lorenzo Angelino CLEARED OF FATHER'S MURDER.
Elena's stomach tightened.
She clicked one of the articles.
The details were vague.
Lorenzo's father, Alessandro Angelino, had died several years earlier.
Lorenzo had been questioned extensively.
There had apparently been an argument between father and son shortly before Alessandro's death.
Lorenzo had inherited nearly everything.
And despite being found not guilty, suspicion had followed him ever since.
Elena closed the article.
She remembered the way he had looked at her when she mentioned his father.
There had been something in his expression.
Pain?
Anger?
Regret?
She couldn't tell.
She opened another article.
This one included an old photograph of Lorenzo standing outside the courthouse.
He looked younger.
But his expression was already cold.
Elena stared at the photograph.
She didn't know what had happened to him.
But suddenly, she wanted to.
---
The next morning, Elena walked into the kitchen and found Marco drinking coffee.
He looked exhausted.
She stopped in the doorway.
“You're going to tell me.”
Marco didn't look up.
“Good morning to you too.”
“Marco.”
He sighed.
“I knew this was coming.”
“You knew I'd ask.”
“Yes.”
“Then answer me.”
Marco put his cup down.
“What exactly do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
“That isn't possible.”
“Why?”
“Because some things are complicated.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it's true.”
Elena pulled out a chair.
“Then start somewhere.”
Marco stared at her.
For a long moment, he seemed to be fighting with himself.
Finally, he said, “Our father knew Lorenzo's father through business.”
“What kind of business?”
“International investments.”
Elena frowned.
“That's it?”
“Yes.”
“You're lying.”
Marco's eyes hardened.
“Elena.”
“I saw the way you reacted to that photograph.”
“Because I knew his father.”
“You knew Lorenzo too?”
“No.”
“Then why do you hate him?”
“I don't hate him.”
“You warned me to stay away from him.”
“Because I know what his family is capable of.”
Elena stood.
“What does that mean?”
Marco remained silent.
She shook her head.
“You know what? I'm done asking.”
She turned toward the door.
“Elena.”
She stopped.
Marco's voice softened.
“Please don't get involved with him.”
She looked back.
“Why?”
“Because I don't want you getting hurt.”
There was genuine fear in his expression.
For the first time, Elena didn't argue.
She simply walked away.
---
Across the city, Lorenzo stood inside a private office beneath one of his legitimate businesses.
The room looked nothing like his public offices.
There were no paintings.
No expensive decorations.
Only a large table, several screens, and people who knew better than to waste his time.
Matteo entered carrying a folder.
“We found something.”
Lorenzo looked up.
“Go on.”
“The Rossi family wasn't simply connected to your father.”
He placed the folder on the table.
“They were involved.”
Lorenzo opened it.
Old records.
Names.
Photographs.
Financial transactions.
His father's organization had apparently worked with several families years ago.
One of those families was the Rossis.
Lorenzo's expression remained calm.
“Why did my father never tell me?”
“Maybe he didn't want you to know.”
“Or maybe someone removed the records.”
Matteo nodded.
“That possibility exists.”
Lorenzo turned another page.
There was Marco.
Much younger.
Standing beside a man Lorenzo didn't recognize.
“Who's that?”
“We're still trying to identify him.”
Lorenzo studied the photograph.
Something about the man's face seemed familiar.
Then his phone vibrated.
A message.
Elena: Can we talk?
Lorenzo stared at the screen.
Matteo noticed.
“You should go.”
Lorenzo looked up.
“I didn't ask.”
“You didn't need to.”
Lorenzo ignored him.
He typed a response.
Lorenzo: Where?
The reply came quickly.
Elena: The gallery.
---
Elena was already there when Lorenzo arrived.
She stood beside one of her paintings, but she wasn't painting.
She was waiting.
He approached slowly.
“You wanted to see me.”
“Yes.”
She turned toward him.
“Tell me about your father.”
Lorenzo went still.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
“Why?”
“My brother showed me something.”
“What?”
“A photograph.”
Lorenzo's expression changed.
“What photograph?”
“My father was standing with your father.”
Lorenzo's jaw tightened.
“And Damiano Vitale.”
Silence.
Elena noticed.
“You know him.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Lorenzo looked away.
“He was involved with my father's business.”
“Business?”
“Yes.”
“What kind?”
Lorenzo looked at her.
“Elena, why are you asking?”
“Because everyone keeps telling me there are things I don't understand.”
She took a step closer.
“My brother won't tell me. My mother won't tell me. And now you're standing here acting like you know exactly what I'm talking about.”
Lorenzo remained silent.
Her voice softened.
“Was your father really murdered?”
“Yes.”
“Did you kill him?”
The question hung between them.
Lorenzo's expression became unreadable.
“No.”
Elena searched his face.
“You're sure?”
“I know what happened.”
“Then what happened?”
“I can't tell you.”
Her expression fell.
“Why?”
“Because it's complicated.”
She gave a humorless laugh.
“Everyone says that.”
“Elena—”
“I don't want another secret.”
Lorenzo stepped closer.
“I understand.”
“No, you don't.”
She looked at him.
“You barely know me.”
“Maybe.”
“Then don't decide what I can handle.”
Something in his expression softened.
“You're right.”
Elena hadn't expected that.
He continued quietly.
“I don't want to lie to you.”
“Then don't.”
“I haven't lied.”
“You've just refused to tell me the truth.”
Lorenzo looked at her for several seconds.
“There are things in my life that are dangerous.”
“I can see that.”
“You shouldn't get involved.”
Elena crossed her arms.
“That's my decision.”
His eyes remained on hers.
“And if I asked you to stay away from me?”
She hesitated.
“Would you?”
“No.”
The answer came so quickly that she almost smiled.
“Then why ask?”
“Because I want you to have a choice.”
That silenced her.
For a moment, neither moved.
Then Elena looked away.
“You're strange.”
“I've been told.”
She smiled despite herself.
It was small.
But Lorenzo noticed.
He always noticed.
---
Neither of them saw the black car parked across the street.
Inside, Damiano watched the gallery through darkened windows.
A man sat beside him.
“That's her?”
Damiano nodded.
“Elena Rossi.”
“She doesn't look important.”
Damiano smiled.
“That's exactly why she is.”
He watched Lorenzo leave the gallery.
“He's changing.”
“How?”
“He used to have nothing he couldn't afford to lose.”
Damiano's eyes followed Elena through the window.
“Now he does.”
---
That evening, Elena returned home to find Marco waiting in the living room.
“You met him.”
It wasn't a question.
Elena stopped.
“Yes.”
Marco stood.
“What did he tell you?”
“The truth about his father.”
“Which is?”
“That he didn't kill him.”
Marco's face remained tense.
“I know.”
Elena stared at him.
“You know?”
“Yes.”
“Then why do you keep warning me?”
Marco looked away.
“Because his father's death wasn't the only thing you should be worried about.”
Elena's stomach tightened.
“What else is there?”
Marco didn't answer.
“Elena,” he said quietly, “if you knew everything about Lorenzo Angelino, you wouldn't look at him the same way.”
She stared at him.
“Then tell me.”
Marco shook his head.
“I can't.”
“Why?”
“Because some secrets don't just change the way you see people.”
He looked at her.
“They change your entire life.”
Elena didn't understand what he meant.
Not yet.
But somewhere across the city, Lorenzo was receiving a message that would soon change everything.
Someone has been asking questions about Elena Rossi.
And for the first time, Lorenzo wasn't thinking about himself.
He was thinking about how close the danger had already come to her.
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